take my hand and climb with me…

sixty eight degrees: ‘that you light in me…’

The Same Fire ~ Bishop Allen

sixty eight

Wake, this morning. Smoke column, rises from earth. To choke, the sky. Billowing knot, savage smouldering hunger. Of flame. Fields in harvest, baled tindersticks. Waiting. Like my heart. And beating. A morse message, to yours. One. Last. Time. Innocent clouds, pregnant with dust. And smokey signal. May gold weight, shift. Before fire tongues, lick level. Or rain drops, tears in flood. Drowning memories, kept too long. Perhaps the world, ends. This way. To be born, from ash. A phoenix, pure.

I will burn through it all unharmed. For you…

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This entry was posted on December 7, 2012 by in Spring and tagged , , , , , , .


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